The golden light glints off it, making it look alive.
For a moment, I think he’s looking right at me.
Then he’s gone, swallowed by the sea of glittering bodies.
My pulse stutters.Get it together, Roxy. It’s just a man at a party.
I set down the empty flute and reach for another canapé, something flaky with caviar on top. I’ve never had caviar before. This will be a first and a last, I’m sure. My stomach growls; I skipped lunch to squeeze into this dress.
“Still eating, I see,” Kat’s voice comes from behind me, dripping honey and venom. A woman at her elbow turns away, stifling a chuckle before slipping off into the crowd.
I turn slowly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She’s smiling, but her eyes are sharp. “Nothing. It’s just… you wonder why Eric left, and then you show up to an event like this inhaling everything in sight.”
My face goes hot. “Excuse me?” It’s been two months, but that still stings.
Her tone stays light and conversational. “He told me last Christmas that he wished you’d take better care of yourself. That he worried about you. I guess now I see what he meant.”
It’s a slap without the sound.
I stare at her, throat tight. “You really couldn’t wait five minutes to humiliate me?”
Kat blinks, feigning innocence. “I’m trying to help you. Don’t overreact.”
Overreact.That’s her favorite word.
The sting builds behind my eyes, but I refuse to let her see me cry.
And that’s when I feel it.
Strong hands grip my hips from behind.
My whole body freezes.
The touch is firm and possessive.
Firm fingers splay against the satin of my dress and burn through the thin fabric.
My heart kicks hard in my chest.
I spin, ready to tell someone off, but the words die in my throat when my eyes meet his.
Chapter 2
Makari
Moments earlier
The night’s already a disappointment.
An hour underground, and I’ve won more hands at roulette than I’ve bothered to count, yet I feel nothing. It’s likely a setup anyway. The music swells, the air is thick with perfume, smoke, and sin, and still it all tastes like dust. Or rather, cognac.
Even the high from the pills I took this morning is gone, dulled by the endless drone of polite laughter. I roll the last chip between my fingers and stare at the wheel as it spins—black, red, black, red—each turn promising a thrill that won’t touch me.
Next to and slightly behind me, Paul sighs. He’s been my shadow for twenty years, and he’s too old for these games. I can see it in the way the shadows gather under his eyes.Thisshakes forth a sliver of guilt. I should have nudged him to retire before he was so consumed by stress that he takes blood pressure medication.
“You look miserable,” he murmurs. “If there’s no business to be done here, why stay?”
